


Make This Life Our Own

by Triskellion



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-21 00:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triskellion/pseuds/Triskellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a safe planet, perfect for shore leave.  So why did Spock go so crazy that Dr. McCoy has had to strap him down in Sickbay?  And what is Captain Kirk going to do when he finds out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make This Life Our Own

Title: Make This Life Our Own  
Author: [](http://triskellion.livejournal.com/profile)[**triskellion**](http://triskellion.livejournal.com/)  
Pairing(s): Spock.Kirk/McCoy  
Rating: PG-13  
Word Count: 1667  
Disclaimer: It belongs to Gene Roddenberry first, Paramount second, and me not at all.  
Summary: It was a safe planet, perfect for shore leave. So why did Spock go so crazy that Dr. McCoy has had to strap him down in Sickbay? And what is Captain Kirk going to do when he finds out?  
Notes/Warnings: This is based mostly on [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/379.html?thread=1508731#t1508731) from [](http://st-xi-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[**st_xi_kink**](http://st-xi-kink.livejournal.com/). Since that is in part one, I posted it [here in part seven](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/4765.html?thread=14125725#t14125725)

“What the hell is going on?” barked Jim Kirk as he stalked through the doors of Sickbay.

“To what, precisely, are you referring, Captain?” Leonard McCoy replied in a dry and grumpy tone.

“I just beamed up from two days shore leave only to be informed that my first officer has apparently gone mad,” Kirk snapped. “Not only that, but it happened a day and a half ago and, despite the fact that I was in communication the whole time I was off ship, no one told me!”

McCoy ran a hand over his strained features before pressing his thumb and forefinger against eyes shadowed by dark circles. “I'm sorry, Captain,” he growled. “I've been keeping the Bridge updated. If those updates were not passed on to you, take it up with your damned Bridge staff!”

Kirk took a half step back and scrubbed his hands over his face and through his already well tousled hair. “Right, will do,” he promised in a kinder tone. “But first, can I get an update? What the hell is going on?”

Grabbing a PADD, McCoy flipped through its contents as he reported. “Thirty-eight hours ago, the Bridge received contact from the locals that Commander Spock had gone mad in one of the bars. He was described as dashing through the room, pausing before random people, looking them over, sometimes touching, and then running to another. Some claim he made demands to be returned home before the local authorities hit him with the local equivalent of a phaser on stun.

“We beamed him straight to Sickbay as soon as we had coordinates. Upon arriving, he quickly regained consciousness and began his manic behavior again. I sedated him and had him strapped down. I've run every test and scan I can think of. His hormone levels are spiking. His adrenal system is in overdrive, resulting in him breaking out of the straps twice since arriving. I've had to keep him sedated almost constantly, but the down time does nothing for his physical condition. I've found no cause, though there was something in his blood at first. It broke down before we could identify it, but the end of the compound didn't result in the end of his condition.

“I've contacted Starfleet and the Vulcans looking for ideas, but so far I've gotten nothing useful. If we don't find a way to stabilize his condition soon, he's going to die. His renal system is already threatening failure and his blood pressure is rising, but I can't be exactly sure how everything is effecting him because of that blasted hybrid physiology of his.”

Kirk leaned back against one of the bio beds with a wide-eyed and terrified stare. The look lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to unnerve the doctor watching. “Have you tried asking him what's wrong?” Kirk asked.

“Once or twice,” McCoy replied, tapping his fingers uneasily against the surface of the PADD. “He just keeps babbling about the link being lost and that we must take him home. That's when he's talking. He tried to attack Uhura and Chapel this morning and decked M'Benga yesterday. I'm the only one who can get close to him at this point, even when he's unconscious. I don't know how I'm going to manage him if he breaks free of the straps again.”

Kirk absorbed the words in a thoughtful silence before turning a fierce and determined look on the doctor. “I'm going to speak to him.”

“Jim, I can't permit that,” McCoy protested vehemently. “Who knows what he might try.”

“I've got to try,” Kirk insisted. “I should have been here sooner … maybe ...”

“He was in a relationship with Uhura for two years. You think your half-assed friendship will do better at getting you close?” McCoy snapped.

“Well, it's working for you,” Kirk countered. “Or do you have another theory as to why you didn't get decked with M'Benga?”

McCoy huffed and crossed his arms, but he led his captain into the isolation room in the corner of Sickbay. “Hope you're right,” was all he said.

“When's he due to wake next?” Kirk asked, looking over the pale figure laying in the biobed. Spock looked horrible, his skin pasty and tinged in the sharp green than indicated a flush. Even unconscious, muscles twitched at random until his whole body seemed to vibrate.

“Any minute,” McCoy replied softly, stepping up behind Kirk. “The sedative has been more and more useless. And I'm scared it's going to start doing more damage than good.”

“Then stop giving it to him,” Kirk suggested, his hand reaching out to rest on the side of the bed, next to Spock's arm but not quite touching.

“Which is more dangerous, hurting Spock with sedatives or Spock hurting everyone off them?” McCoy asked dryly, but it was clear he wasn't sold on that interpretation.

“Is he really that dangerous?” Kirk asked plaintively and got a glare in reply.

“You of all people should know the answer to that,” McCoy said, rubbing a hand against his neck pointedly.

Kirk considered that but opened his mouth again, likely to continue to protest, when Spock groaned, his back arching up away from the bed as far as the straps would allow.

“Spock?” Jim called, his hand cupping his first officer's forearm, bared by the hospital garments.

“She's gone,” Spock called in protest. “T'Pring. Gone. Must … return … home,” he added, gasping between words.

Kirk's brow furrowed. “T'Pring … where do I know that name from?”

“He's mentioned it before,” McCoy replied, speaking as though Spock were oblivious, and perhaps he was. “We ran it through the computer and found a few references. Best guess, she was a Vulcan who died when the planet was destroyed by Nero.”

“Nero!” Spock snarled, his face in a grimace of hatred worse than the one the observers had seen when Spock attacked Jim on the Bridge the day Vulcan was destroyed.

“Spock,” Kirk coaxed, leaning closer. “What's wrong? How can we help?”

Their eyes seemed to meet for a moment and something passed between them. It could not be observed, but whatever it was seemed to charge the air in the room and made both humans shiver.

The moment passed as Spock arched again, and this time the straps did not limit him, snapping and tearing until he was free to sit up, to swing his legs over the side of the bed, to capture Kirk's wrist with his hand instead of the other way around. His free hand reached up to Kirk's face, and if McCoy had been able to see his captain's expression maybe he wouldn't have tried to interfere. There was no fear in Kirk's eyes, only acceptance, and maybe a bit of welcome.

But McCoy did try to interfere, tried to hold that hand back from his captain's face. He failed. Spock's hand merely changed targets, latching onto the doctor's face with a swiftness that could not be countered. Spock dropped Kirk's wrist and used that hand to touch his captain's face, fingers settling into the psi points of both men at the same time, mind reaching out in the same moment.

“My mind to your mind,” his lips might have said, but what his mind pleaded was, “Please?”

~o0o~

They were very lucky no one dared come near the isolation room without Dr. McCoy's permission, and they knew it.

“How the hell are we going to explain this to Starfleet?” McCoy grumbled even as he lay sprawled across Spock's naked side on the floor, his legs intertwined with those of both his companions.

“Who says we have to?” Kirk countered, shifting one bare leg to release a point pinched by exquisitely twitching muscles and sweaty skin.

“You two are not responsible for what has occurred,” Spock chimed in, sounding far more serious than his condition should have allowed given he was in a naked, sweaty heap with his captain and the ship’s CMO. “I will take full responsibility and punishment from Starfleet.”

“What exactly should you be punished for?” McCoy asked.

“Relationships between senior officers ...”

Kirk cut Spock off. “I'd think something like this counts as a medical emergency.”

“I'll sign off on that,” McCoy agreed.

Spock let out a rather human sounding sigh. “Technically, what just occurred between us counts as marriage in the Vulcan culture.”

Kirk stiffened for a moment, then relaxed again, molding his body more comfortably against his companions'. “Huh. Right. Guess that part didn't sink in.”

“Just what I need, another marriage,” McCoy grumbled.

Spock looked at them, his brow furrowed in an unusual show of puzzlement. “Despite your words, I sense the idea is not unappealing to either of you.”

“For some highly illogical, eminently emotional reason, we like you,” Kirk said teasingly.

“A little warning or explanation would have been nice, but there's been worse consequences to saving a life than a marriage,” McCoy added dryly.

“I do apologize for my actions,” Spock said, his fingers tightening on his companions’ shoulders. “I have not read any warnings about any substances on this planet having an adverse effect on Vulcans, but it appears there is something. I never expected to go into pon farr at all.”

“Guess we should include a warning in our report to Starfleet,” McCoy said. “I'll provide the Vulcan healers with what little information I got on the compound in your blood.”

“That would be a logical addition, but does not attend to the issue of Starfleet's response to our actions.”

Kirk smirked. “I say again, who says we have to tell them?”

“Captain, it would be improper ...”

Kirk cut Spock off, slapping a hand over the Vulcan's mouth. “I think under the circumstances you can call me Jim,” he said pointedly. “And remember, medical emergency. We'll do what we have to in order to sort this out. Not letting Starfleet take either of you away.”

“That's a nauseatingly sweet sentiment,” McCoy drawled drowsily.

“You disagree?” Kirk asked sweetly, releasing Spock's mouth to wrap his hand around McCoy's wrist.

“Nope.”

“See, we'll make this work.”

“Yes, Jim,” Spock said, tightening his hold on his new bondmates.


End file.
